Pussycat cubism

Break glass in emergency

Indeed!

This thoughtful and heartwarming public service announcement was one of my highlights for a mid-week break in the mountains, though the humans seemed more impressed with the gallery the café was attached to. Magic Pudding indeed. Two days away and they were deep into hound withdrawal -- nothing for the humans but they couldn't stop themselves from bringing back gifts for him.

More food than I want to think about, a four-poster bed in the Shakespeare room (no less) and a commodiously triangular bath -- albeit served by a patent chrome soap dispenser above the sink requiring either sixty squirts of soap (rounded, for reasons that can only be divulged by the perpetrators, to the nearest twenty squirts) or dismantling with a 3mm allen key in order for the lids to be unscrewed.

Hills there may be in the mountains, but bringing one's bicycle at least ensures one has the appropriate tools!

Return of the killer croissants!

Time passes, time passes -- it's been nearly a year since the last croissant experiment, and the humans made a much improved effort with proper bread flour to hold the butter in, and a cold day to help roll out smoothly. New and seasoned toureurs managed square corners and nicely twirled triangles; increased sobriety meant that there were no vegemite and nutella combinations to distinguish between as rivers of butter flowed out of the oven.

Voilà:

Mammary vegan revisionism

As he prepares to return to hexagonal climes, the human has been getting all wistful about the many fine friends and kitchens he's leaving behind and has been feeling the urge to revisit past accidental triumphs. Small blessings, I suppose -- he may still read books about molecular gastronomy on the loo while nobody's looking, but at last count still had two hands and ten digits.

He always insists on changing something, however, and this time contrived to do it by inviting two of the loveliest vegan acquaintances for a pie based not on beef and guinness but on mushrooms and home-brewed stout.

Some things remain the same, however, as the basic form of the dish:

Puffs into this:

Broader and not quite as pointy as the original, perhaps, but there's always room to jazz things up a bit:

I, on the other hand, would rather pick on creatures my own size -- which the human has been telling anyone who will listen cost him precisely $1.55, patiently measured out by a patient market trader far too young to be viewing the finished product.

As the hound has become accustomed to hearing before being given his pellets to disdain, bon appetit!

I'm not Saussure about that

(with apologies to one of the more hilariously grumpy members of the medical fraternity!)

Strange but true

Proof that there's sometimes more to friendship than chasing each other around the garden -- that's if the photo can be believed!